NEW ORLEANS — These are the best of times and the worst of times for the National Football League, a Sunday football experiment born on the rough-hewn playing fields of Canton, Ohio; Muncie, Ind.; and Rock Island, Ill., that grew and grew and grew until it captured the soul of America.

The best of times because its showcase event continues to produce the most profitable one-night sports event on the entire Continental Land Mass . . . the worst of times because even as the mere thought of the approaching 47th Super Bowl holds this nation as a willing hostage, everything the league had created is slowly being threatened by the very violence inherent in the nature of the beast.

The threat is strong enough that it led its commissioner, Roger Goodell, to candidly and publicly ask the question:

"When there is risk associated with playing tackle football, why do people continue to play? And for parents, should I let my kids play tackle football? These are valid, important questions."

It was a question the commissioner had to ask on the theory that the best defense is a good offense. More than steroids — more than other performance-enhancing drugs — the "new" medical evidence about concussions makes it mandatory that the league solve the problem or risk it all.

Medical researchers from Boston all the way to Los Angeles are almost daily revealing new information about the impact of recurring concussions on the men who play the game at every level. The results are always alarming and at times puzzling.

Most recently, the suicide of Junior Seau pushed the problem out of the sports sections and onto the front pages of America’s newspapers. An autopsy revealed that Seau had chronic traumatic encephalopathy. They call it CTE, and its root cause is generally thought to be the result of a concussion — possibly repeated concussions. Seau had no shortage of them during a lengthy and distinguished career as an NFL linebacker.

A team of researchers and pathologists at Boston University announced that finding. It also claims that NFL players die nearly 20 years earlier than most Americans. The study autopsied brain tissue from 85 people with a history of repetitive head trauma, including military veterans, boxers and football and hockey players. Sixty-eight were found to have the CTE brain disorder linked to memory loss, depression and dementia.

In fairness to the NFL, it is reacting both scientifically and educationally. The new concussion rules sideline players suspected of having suffered concussions until they get medical clearance. The league is working with helmet manufacturers, the Players Association and with a panel of distinguished medical experts to examine not only concussions but a serious variety of other football injuries. On Thursday, that group held a seminar for some of the writers here for Super Bowl XLVII and chronicled its past efforts and current plans.

And ominously hanging over this major effort is the documented fact that there have been a dozen proven suicides of National Football League players in the past 25 years. There were probably more. A shadowy link to CTE is there, and over the years a number of retired NFL players believe it has seriously affected them. A judge in Philadelphia will hear a class-action suit about it in April.

The obvious attempts to make the game safer and cut down seriously on concussions are there — from medical research to the elimination of helmet-to-helmet contact and the possibility that kickoffs (where most concussions may occur) may actually be eliminated.

But on Wednesday, another dimension and very possibly another solution to these troubling problems surfaced at the seminar.

In its way, it is the most far-reaching area in impact on the lives of a significant number of retired players. The man who explained it is a retiree.

Eric Hipple played quarterback for the Detroit Lions for a decade. He is one of two former players who spoke Wednesday. Hipple is the outreach coordinator for the University of Michigan Depression Center. He is neither a psychiatrist nor a psychologist. He is a father whose son committed suicide at age 15.

He works with students at Michigan, and with veterans returning from Iraq and Afghanistan. He lectures at schools and corporations about suicide prevention, and on Wednesday he said something that requires no research because its foundation did not rest on the complex answers about CTE.

On Wednesday, the first thing Hipple said was:

"I want to talk about Junior Seau. He did not die because of CTE. It was depression that killed him, and so we have to focus on that."

Hipple did not discount the horror of CTE. He pointed out that he has no doubt that CTE compounded his problem. But in the end it wasn’t CTE that killed him. What he did was point to a problem far too many former players face with or without it.

"NFL guys are tough. You knock one down, and he will always get up. I have no doubts about that. But physical toughness is not the same as mental toughness.

"When a player leaves the game, the fact is that away from that locker room he loses his support system. He loses his friends and his income. All those are factors, and yet we don’t talk about that.

"During my 17 years of football, no high school, college or pro coach ever told me at season’s end to come back ... mentally ready. Like a lot of people, they don’t know what mental health is. Players don’t learn that.

"Research shows 15 percent of retired players show moderate to severe depression. We have to get them ready. We have to show them they can be productive in their new world. We can’t wait until depression masters them six years after retirement."

He’s right. From the time they were 12, there always was a locker room and a structure and a familiar world. Then it’s gone. Without them, there is a sudden, unexpected and painful void — unless they’re ready.

These guys are competitors. Hipple is right. With the right help, they can adjust to a new playing field. It could save their lives.